


Inside Out

by writellings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, I blame Twitter, M/M, Reminiscing, childhod memories, iwaoi - Freeform, oiiwa - Freeform, oikawa appreciating iwaizumi's inner and outer beauty, oikawa slobbering over iwaizumi, pure plotless fluff and nothing else tbh, that's it tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5322371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writellings/pseuds/writellings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old photograph – eaten away by dust and filth, and worn at the edges over the years – makes him conscious of his age, of how much time has passed, and how much has changed since he was a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Amalas](https://twitter.com/Amalasdraws)! Plotless IwaOi goodness. warnings for possible sweetness overdoze - read at your own risk! And enjoy ❤️
> 
> EDIT: There is now a _beautiful_ comic for this story!! Drawn by [Amalas](https://tumblr.com/Amalasdraws)! You can find it [here](http://amalasdraws.tumblr.com/post/134815497123/the-wonderful-bokuakakuroo-wrote-this-very-sweet) so please go check it out it's amazing!! ❤️❤️

* * *

 

The old photograph – eaten away by dust and filth, and worn at the edges over the years – makes him conscious of his age, of how much time has passed, and how much has changed since he was a child.

Tooru strides his fingertips along the paper, smiling to himself. It’s a simple photo of himself and Iwaizumi when they were children – Hajime is a bit chubbier, his belly pushing past the hem of his shirt, and Tooru is smiling the same smile he does today, looking cheekily at the camera with his arms swung over Hajime’s neck in what was supposed to be a hug.

There’s a strange wetness in his eyes, and a feeling of something akin to nostalgia settles in his throat; Tooru swallows around it.

He takes one last glance at the picture before putting it away in his pocket – he doesn’t think about it, he doesn’t have a reason for it, but the picture now rests comfortably on the inside of his pants’ pocket. Just as he pulls his hand out, Tooru hears a light knock on the door – actually, there are three knocks; the first, and heaviest, is slow, followed by another two, quicker, lighter movements.

Before Tooru says anything, Hajime’s head peeks inside and he lets himself in. Even now, after so many years, Tooru’s breath stops in his lungs when Hajime smiles. It’s one of those smiles, now, the ones that are reserved especially for Tooru; big and bright and toothy, and so _Hajime_ that Tooru feels faint at the sight. Hajime leans against the door frame after pushing the door closed. He watches Tooru gather his books and put them into his bag. Then, he watches him search for his volleyball shoes, and Tooru watches back, mesmerized – he watches as Hajime’s muscles shift and clench with every small movement; he watches how the light catches his dark eyes so perfectly, and so beautifully, bringing out a glistening in them that’s not usually there.

Tooru doesn’t catch himself staring until he trips over the volleyball that lays in the middle of the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hajime asks, hurrying to his side. Tooru notices how his voice is soft and sweet when they are alone, as opposed to the roughness that’s always in his undertone when around other people. For some reason, he feels selfish pleasure that Hajime is so different with him than he is with anyone else – because to Hajime, Tooru is special.

“I’m fine,” he half-laughs as he grips Hajime’s arms for support. Well, maybe not entirely for support. “I just wasn’t looking, is all,” he says. And his eyes meet Hajime’s, and adrenaline and thrill rush through Tooru’s body when Hajime doesn’t look away. Up close like this, the shorter boy’s eyes are even darker – more so than Tooru thought possible – and deep, deep, like Tooru could drown in them. And he wishes that he could.

Hajime moves away, and the moment ends too abruptly. Tooru’s eyes fall downcast, and he pretends to be fidgeting with his sweater.

“What’s that in your pocket?” Hajime asks, pointing somewhere behind Tooru. He turns around and sees the picture has fallen out of his pocket during his drop.

“Oh, that,” Tooru whispers, as if he is ashamed of having it with him. “It’s nothing. It’s just – just a picture of – of us,” he swallows; it’s loud in his ears but he hopes Hajime can’t hear it. “When we were kids.”

Hajime laughs, not mockingly, but Tooru can’t place his tone with an emotion. “Seriously? You still keep those?” he asks. “Let me see.”

And Tooru unwillingly pulls the photograph out, giving it to Hajime. There’s a long pause where Hajime just stares at the old paper quietly, a soft smile resting on his lips; this is a smile Tooru recognizes as one of those Hajime often gave him when they were kids, when he would try to force the tears away from Tooru’s eyes.

“God, we looked so stupid,” Hajime’s laugh is loud and happy, and it rings around them in the small room.

“Speak for yourself. I was a total cutie.”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Hajime says, still looking down at the picture. Tooru’s mouth falls open as he tries to deduce whether Hajime just called him cute. “Do you remember when this was taken?” he looks up, then, searching for Tooru’s eyes again.

And all Tooru can think about is how Hajime’s hair falls perfectly around his face, how it frames his forehead in a way that wouldn’t suit anybody else; all he can think about is how goddamn beautiful he looks right now – _always –_ so he just shakes his head once, because words are too difficult to process.

“We were having a ‘playdate’,” Hajime’s words are quiet with nostalgia and silent happiness. “I always hated it when my mom called it that,” he lets out a puff of breath. “And I can’t remember quite clearly, but I think we attempted to climb that damn tree in your backyard – “

“And I fell down from the third branch and scraped my knees,” Tooru finishes.

“Yeah,” Hajime’s features are soft, peaceful almost. “What the hell were we even thinking?” he shakes his head with a smile, as though, if it were anyhow possible, he would patronize their younger selves for being so reckless.

Tooru shrugs. “Because we were kids? And kids do stupid shit for stupid reasons.”

There’s a moment of silence where they just _look_ at each other, and then Hajime smiles and Tooru laughs, and by their next breath, laughter bubbles from Hajime’s lungs and the room is filled with sounds of happiness neither of them has felt in a long while. Tooru thinks, if he closes his eyes, he can pretend they’re in that exact spot again; his arms slung loosely over Hajime’s frame, smiling so carelessly – and when he does, it almost feels like nothing’s changed at all.

He remembers, almost as if it were just yesterday, how Hajime had fallen to his knees by his side, how worry had painted every corner of his face as he watched the blood drip down from Tooru’s knees. Then, too, Tooru thought Hajime was beautiful – he was chubby and he was cumbrous, and he had yet to grow out of his childlike features – but he was Tooru’s best friend, and he took care of him, even when Tooru didn’t really need it. And he smiled that smile of his, as if he was challenging Tooru to dare and let a single tear slip down his face, and Tooru didn’t cry – he never did when Hajime was there.

Tooru opens his eyes to find Hajime standing less than an inch away. He pulls him down and captures his lips in their first kiss, thinking that Iwaizumi Hajime is the most beautiful person he’s ever met, inside and out.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it enough to leave a comment :D ❤️❤️


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